Leverage: What Lies Within
by Gilbert H. Karr
Summary: On the plane to San Lorenzo, Nate and Eliot discuss what happened in the warehouse after Nate and the Italian left. Set during Season Three, after The Big Bang Job and before The San Lorenzo Job. Please read and review. I don't own any characters. I don't write slash. Comments are always welcome.


**What Lies Within**

Eliot settled stiffly into his seat on the plane. It was the first time he had been still during this interminably long day, and he didn't like it. It gave him too much time to think, and thinking was something he didn't want to do right now. Thinking led to feeling, and he couldn't afford to feel too much today.

He opened the book he brought with him and tried to read, but his mind wouldn't stop replaying the events of the day, so he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading. He was glad, in a way, that he wasn't seated with the rest of the team. They didn't know what had happened, and he needed to think. He looked out the window, as the plane was taxiing down the runway, and when he looked back, Nate had slid into the seat next to him, placing a beer in front of Eliot and a small glass bottle of whiskey on his own tray. Staring straight ahead, Nate asked, "Would you care to talk to someone about what happened today?"

Eliot shook his head, and stared at Nate with a look he couldn't read. Facing him, Nate said, "It was a rough day, and the job's not over yet. When we get to San Lorenzo, you'll very likely have to face Moreau again. It might help to talk about what happened."

"Won't Sophie be looking for you?"

"She knows I came back here to talk to you. She doesn't know why, and she doesn't have to know. She'll give us time. Stop stalling and talk to me."

"Due respect, Nate, but I'm fine."

"Yeah. That's why your book is upside down and you're jumpy, which is something I've never seen in you, by the way. You'll have to do better than that to convince me."

Eliot was studying his hands, which were shaking just slightly. Nate said nothing more, waiting for him to speak. Eliot reached up and took out his ear bud, and then held out his hand. Taking the hint, Nate removed his as well, and gave it to Eliot, who turned them both off and dropped them in his shirt pocket. Finally, Eliot said, "I can't talk about it right now. I need to process what happened before I discuss it with anyone else."

"On the Maltese Falcon, before I went to jail, I told you that you've all become my family. Where I come from, we take care of family. Whether you're willing to admit it or not, you're hurting. I'm worried about you. As the leader of this group, it is my responsibility to be sure that all of its members are functioning at the top of their game. Anything else could get someone killed. We need you in San Lorenzo. Your friend, the general, needs you too. I can't let you work with us without knowing that you are all right. What you went through today would be hard for anyone, and I imagine especially hard for you since you walked away from that life once."

Eliot turned away and stared out the window for a long time, draining his beer as he did so. Nate sat watching him silently, lending what support he could. When Eliot turned back to look at him, Nate was still watching him, and the string of emotions that flashed across his friend's face wasn't lost on Eliot—the worry, the sorrow, the apology for asking so much, and other, harder to read things. Eliot growled and said, "I saw a part of myself today that I had hoped to never see again. Don't you understand, Nate? I can't burden you with that."

"I'm not made of glass, Eliot. I can handle it."

"This isn't about you. What makes you think _I _can handle re-living it again with you?"

"You're right. This is about you, but it is also about the nature of darkness, and a man's soul. You're always so calm, and you accept things as they come. The fact that you are neither calm nor accepting of this worries me more than you know. I can imagine what you are going through. I see the monster in my own soul, occasionally, on the days that something reminds me of Sam. I feel it struggling inside me, fighting to look out at the world through my eyes, and changing the way I see. The monster is ruthless, and if you give it any power over you, it will exert all of it, and it has the power to destroy you."

Eliot remained stubbornly silent, stone-faced, staring at Nate with something akin to fear in his eyes. As Nate sat there, waiting for him to speak, he began to get angry, and he didn't know exactly why.

"Your refusal to talk about this with me makes me think you still don't trust me, and I find I can't accept that. I'm going back up front with Sophie. You will stay in the hotel while we are working. I am disappointed, Eliot." Nate turned around to slide out of the seat into the aisle, and a strong hand shot out and grasped his arm. Surprised, he looked up and met the hitter's eyes, and the self reproach and loathing he saw there stopped him in his tracks.

"I'm sorry, Eliot. I didn't realize how hard this is proving to be for you. I shouldn't have pushed. "

"Wait. I want you to know, it's not a matter of trust. I want to tell you, but I am not used to sharing things which are this deeply personal with anyone. In my line of work, those things which are personal become weaknesses, and weaknesses get people killed. If you'll be patient with me, I'll try." He paused, looking out the window for another long moment. Then he added, "Maybe you can help me the way you helped Hardison play the violin."

Now it was Nate's turn to have an unreadable expression on his face. He cocked his head sideways, and looked at his friend as if seeing him for the first time. Finally, he found his voice and said, "Are you sure you want to do it that way?"

Eliot smiled, and gave a short bark of a laugh. "Well, it isn't my first choice, but it is a good last resort, I think."

"All right. Take your time. I can wait."

So, little by little, Eliot told Nate the story of what had happened in the warehouse after he left with the Italian. Then he said, "what bothers me most, Nate, is that I turned into the man I used to be again. I killed every man in that warehouse without any remorse at all."

"That's not too hard to figure out. They were trying to kill us, and you see our protection as your responsibility. They were actively trying to kill you, so you were justified in defending yourself. And you said it yourself, every one of Moreau's men had innocent blood on their hands. Destroying them all slows Moreau down. If he doesn't go to jail, he'll have to start over. Mankind will be safer, for a while, at least."

"The other thing that bothers me is how quickly I turned back into the man I was. I had hoped that the passage of time would put that man further into my passive memory than it did. Even now, I feel the remnants of that man inside me. I'm trying to lock him away again, but it is taking longer than I thought it would."

"Eliot, I've worked with you for three years now. You're a good man. An honorable man. You made some bad decisions, but that doesn't negate the good work you have done with the team, and before, when you were that kid with the flag on your shoulder. Remember who that man is. Focus on him. If you need a reminder, I can help with that, or you can go see Toby. The man you were helped make you the man you are. You need him to remind you of who you are now, and of why. Don't forget that."

"I won't."

"Thank you for telling me what happened."

"Thank you for making me. I feel better now, more centered."

"I'm glad."

"Don't—"

"-tell the rest of the team. No, I won't. This is just between us."

Nate slid out of his seat and walked back down the aisle toward first class, satisfied that his retrieval specialist, his friend, would be all right. Eliot watched him go, and after Nate passed through the curtain that separated first class from the rest of the plane, Eliot allowed himself a small smile at the bond that was forming between them. For the first time, he truly believed that they might be able to put Damien Moreau away for good, and in doing so, Eliot might be able to put his past away, too.


End file.
